


The Road Goes Ever On and On

by Gi_Melin (Aku_Cinta_Kamu)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Second Chances, Third and Final Chances, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aku_Cinta_Kamu/pseuds/Gi_Melin
Summary: Bilbo thinks life is over for him. When will he learn that he isn't cut out for a quiet existence?Currently on haitus





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [An Expected Journey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/658324) by [MarieJacquelyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieJacquelyn/pseuds/MarieJacquelyn). 



> Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated, especially if related to Tolkien's world. I have no beta so if you catch something, let me know!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo dies. Or does he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I've decided to start this story over, as I've had the realization that I tried to start in the middle of the story. I'd like to start at the beginning.
> 
> I know this chapter is short, but it's what I've got for you right now.
> 
> I own nothing but my shoes. I hope you all enjoy :)

When Bilbo drew his last breath, he heard his mother’s laugh. He awoke to the smell of her perfume and he opened his eyes to a sight he had longed to see for many years, a sight so achingly familiar that it left him speechless. His mother, her hair loose and wild, was sitting next to him. Her dress was muddied at the hem and her eyes were bright. Her bare toes dug into the grass on the hill and the sunlight seemed to be drawn to her. Bilbo stared openly.

Belladonna’s eyes then turned dark with concern. The curve of her lip turned towards the earth, a shape that perfectly echoed the rolling hills around them.

“What is wrong, my love?” Bilbo’s eyes filled with tears.

“It is only that I have missed you so.” His mother looked guilty.

“I know you wanted to come with me, darling, but you are yet too young to make such a journey. Perhaps when you are older we will journey together to visit my dear brother Isengar. Yavanna knows it will be quite the adventure to discover wherever he ran off to! Although, don’t let your father hear me saying so.” She giggled. “He’s warmed up to my Tookish nature, but he’d never let me hear the end of it if I made you into an adventurer. No, you’re to be a respectable Baggins someday.”

Bilbo was quite understandably confused. Was he playing out a memory of his mother in his dying delusions? Had he made it to the afterlife and found that he was the only one who knew they were dead? He was quite tongue tied for a minute before he squeaked out.

“I’m not a fauntling anymore, mother! I’m one hundred and thirty one years old!” His mother laughed, delighted.

“Yes, darling, of course you are. One hundred and thirty one, my goodness! You’re the oldest hobbit to have ever lived!” She rose to her feet and grabbed him by the arms, swinging him up onto her shoulders. He gasped and felt his face go red. He was far too old to be treated like this! The indecency! She chuckled.

“No, darling. You are yet a fauntling, and even when you are of age you will remain my wee one. But for now, you only have twelve years to your name, and that means that we need to get you home for dinner!” Bilbo was beyond confused, but he could do very little when perched upon his mothers shoulders as he was, so he kept quiet and observed the landscape as it passed, fading into the many smials of Hobbiton. He looked around at the faces of people who were long dead and gone. He even saw his aunt Mirabella in the market, who had died during the Fell Winter so many years ago.

Then he caught a glimpse of a young Brandybuck who he knew was still living and he was struck dumb. Looking around more closely, there were those whom he knew had been dead for years, and those who were yet living. He looked around and saw who should be there but were not: ones who had died during the Fell Winter but…  
In this memory, they had not yet been born. Bilbo didn’t want to believe it. He knew he was dreaming, he was stuck in a memory, and yet… a voice in the back of his mind told him that it was true.

Bilbo Baggins of the Shire instead of passing from Valinor to Mandos, or indeed to the land of dead Hobbits and Men, yet unnamed and a mystery to even the elves, had traveled into his own past. He was entirely clueless as to what he was supposed to do next.


	2. Chapter 2

They arrived home and Bungo was there waiting with an indulgent smile on his face. Belladonna swung him down, off of her shoulders, and he ran to his father. Despite his knowledge of his true age, he could not prevent himself from launching into his fathers arms. His parents, yet a young couple, laughed outright, as did a few onlookers. It was spring and the world was flowering: this kind of energy in the air was known to affect hobbits of all ages. Bilbo’s behavior didn’t strike anyone as strange. Indeed, because of the immense energy and excitement of spring, most hobbits tended to be born in the autumn months. Hobbits were like the land around them: seeds were sown in the spring and harvested in the fall.

Bungo, however, noticed that something was wrong when Bilbo didn’t let him go. Doting parent that he was, he took Bilbo into his arms and carried him into the house. Bilbo snuggled close against his father’s chest. He hadn’t ever really healed from the pain of his parents’ death, nor had the pain of his lifetime ever truly left him. The physical comfort that his parents were offering was too tempting for him to ignore it. The pull of their love was too strong.

The weight of his life pressed down upon his shoulders. His confusion as to what was happening now added to his emotional turmoil. The second they were inside and the door was closed, Bilbo allowed the tears to roll down his face.

His parents were instantly alarmed.

Bilbo had been a happy child, if a bit reserved. He wasn’t known to be overly emotional or to cry in this way. They shared a glance and then immediately carried Bilbo over to the den, where they set him down upon a comfortable chair and knelt in front of him. He reached out his arms as they pulled back and their concern grew.

“Bilbo?” his mother asked quietly. “Bilbo, my love, what is wrong?”

He shook his head and tried to swallow away the lump in his throat. He took a second to think. What would he do? He knew, somehow, that he mustn’t tell his parents of what the future would bring. His attempt to speak to do so had been stopped, as if by some magic that stole his voice. He shook his head again and tried to compose himself.

‘Bilbo, you are much too old to be snivel like a wounded fauntling. Get a hold of yourself!’ he scolded himself in his head. He took a deep breath and relied on the fast thinking that had gotten him out of so many troubles in the past.

“I… I had a bad dream a few nights ago. And- And I keep having it. Every night,” he spoke haltingly, trying to sell his story the best he could. His parents shared a glance, their concern growing.

“What dream, Bilbo?” He looked down.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry for crying” he said quietly. He made to get up, but his parents wouldn’t let him. Belladonna looked at him with a scolding gaze.

“Bilbo Baggins you answer the question right this instant, do you understand me? What dream?”

“I…” he thought quickly. He could use this. “I don’t think it’s a dream, momma. I think… it’s different. Like something that will happen someday.”

“A vision?” Bungo whispered, confounded. Bilbo scrunched up his nose like he didn’t understand.

“What’s a vision, papa?” Bungo shook his head.

“Never mind that, Beeble.” Bilbo almost startled. He hadn’t heard that nickname in a while… it was almost embarrassing now. He hadn’t been able to say his name when he was very young, so his parents had adopted his babbling as a nickname. As much as it was embarrassing, though, it was comforting to him. He unconsciously began to relax a little. He could get through this.

“What was your dream of, darling?” Bilbo looked away.

“It wasn’t good,” he said quietly. His mother took his hand.

“Do you want to wait and tell everyone at once?” He looked up in alarm.

“Everyone?” He asked.

“Bella, that’s not necessary, he—”

“Bungo, you know my great grandmother, may she ever rest in the sun, had visions sometimes. If Bilbo inherited her gift, we need him to tell the Thain what he saw. We need to hold a meeting.” She turned to Bilbo. “I’ll be with you the whole time, darling, but we need to make sure that we react to your visions like we should. It’s for the good of the Shire.” She had a glint in her eye that was serious enough to warn Bilbo that she wasn’t kidding. He nodded.

“Okay momma.” She nodded and rose. She pulled Bungo aside and Bilbo had to strain to hear their whispered conversation.

“Bungo, I’m going to go talk to my grandfather. Will you make sure that he eats and gets plenty of rest? Tomorrow… it may be a hard day, darling.” Bungo nodded and kissed her soundly. She pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders and, planting a kiss to the top of Bilbo’s head, she left Bag End.

She didn’t return until late that night. When she did, she found Bilbo tucked in Bungo’s arms in her bed. She smiled fondly, and then lay down beside them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely happy with this chapter, but tell me what you think! It was important for the plot.
> 
> As always, if you recognize it, I don't own it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets a clue about what's going on.

Bilbo sat on his mother’s lap, his father to his right and Gerontius Took, his grandfather, to his left. Many of his cousins were gathered around the large table and they were all looking to him to begin his story. He took a deep breath and looked up at his mother. She nodded and he swallowed thickly, reminding himself that this wasn’t the hardest thing he had ever done, even if it felt that way.

“I was older than I am now,” he started. “I think. I must have been at least twenty. It was a bad harvest year” His mother tightened her arm around him and he took a deep breath, looking down.

“The river froze.” This was met with worried murmurs. “The river froze and there wasn’t enough food for everybody and then… there were great big wolves and they came and…” He sobbed, not at all having to fake it as the trauma of his childhood came rushing back. “They ate the ones who were dead first. But then they came after us because they didn’t have enough food either and the river couldn’t protect us because it was frozen and—” his mother held him tightly and he turned around, pressing his face into her shoulder and shaking with sobs. It had been horrifying.

“Is there anything else, lad?” His grandfather asked gently, holding a hand up to silence the roar of the rest of the family. Bilbo nodded, trying to breathe through his tears.

“It was really cold and we had to stay inside. Everybody was sick and hungry and then… then the wolves came.” He knew his story was jumbled but he couldn’t think straight. His grandfather seemed to know that he couldn’t get any more out of Bilbo, because he turned to the rest of the family.

“Bilbo is, what, thirteen?”

“Twelve.” 

“We have eight years yet, so calm down.” He turned to Bilbo. “Thank you, lad. I know that was hard on you. Would someone get him some tea, please?” he called. One of his aunts got up and rushed into the kitchen to put some on.

“We need to be ready for this. Without Bilbo, we wouldn’t know that this was coming, but we know it is now. We will be ready. I want everyone to go home and rest. Come back tomorrow with ideas. We will be ready for this.”

 

Bilbo drank his tea quietly and let his tears pass. His grandmother Adamanta approached him quietly and took his hand. She shared a look with his mother before releasing him. 

“Follow me, Bilbo.” His grandmother was a no-nonsense kind of woman. She was the kindest and yet most frightening woman he had ever met. He rose from his mother’s lap and followed her. She walked deep into the smial, to a room he had never seen before. The door handle was covered in dust, which was unusual for any door in the home of an upstanding hobbit family. They walked inside.

The room had no windows as he was accustomed to. It was dark, and Adamanta lit a few candles. Bilbo felt chills go up and down his spine.

“This is a room built by my mother. She came here when she had visions.” He looked around, curious. It looked like any other sitting room he had ever been in, although the furniture looked stiff from lack of use. There was something odd about it, though. Something eerie. His grandmother handed him a candle and quietly left. He had no clue what he was supposed to be doing here in this dark room. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to spend any amount of time here.

He set the candle on the table and walked around the room, opening drawers only to find them all empty. All but one. In it were two intricate candle holders shaped like trees. He took them out and placed them on the table, placing the candles that his grandmother had lit into the appropriate spots. Nothing happened. On a sudden whim, he put out all the other candles and sat facing the two trees. Behind him, he heard a door open.

He didn’t move. He knew that there were no doors behind him: no windows, not even any cupboards on that side of the room. The hair on his neck stood up as he turned slowly around. A fair being with silver hair had appeared before him. He was almost transparent. He smiled at Bilbo and softly said “do not fret. All is well, Bilbo Baggins.” Bilbo found that he couldn’t speak. The being came to sit beside him on the couch.

“It has been long since I have visited the world. However, all is not as it seems. I am Irmo, Master of Visions and Dreams, and we have much to talk about.”  
Bilbo gasped.

“Irmo? Of the Valar?” he whispered in awe. Irmo laughed.

“Yes, Bilbo. But I have much to say to you, and not much time to say it, so you must listen.” Bilbo nodded, still starstruck. Here he was, sitting in his great grandmother’s room, talking to a God. And to top it all off, he seemed to have been transported over a hundred years into the past.

“Vairë the Weaver of the story of the World, has unraveled her cloth. She has seen the suffering that Morgoth has brought upon Middle Earth and wishes to lesson its burden. Yavanna has named you her champion and my brother Mandos and I agree.” Bilbo was reeling with this information.

“What does this mean?” Irmo looked at him steadily.

“It means that the Valar are placing the world in your hands.” Bilbo was thankful that he was sitting because his knees felt weak.

“But… what is there that I can do? I am only a simple hobbit.” Irmo smiled.

“You are more than you think, Bilbo Baggins. And you are not without help.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yavanna has named you her champion. With her favor, many others have offered their assistance to you. They wish to erase the stain of Morgoth on the world.”

“Who has offered me assistance?”

“You will find that not one has spoken against you. Even Manwë and Varda themselves favor you.” Bilbo felt faint.

“What do I do? I… I have done nothing to deserve this favor. I…”

“You kept the One Ring from the hands of Sauron for many years. You raised the man who would destroy it. But it is not your actions that we have chosen you for, Bilbo Baggins. It is your potential. And perhaps… the Valor have seen your story. We are saddened by it. We would offer you a chance to try again, to perhaps create a more peaceful ending for yourself.” Irmo sighed.

“Call on any of us in your time of need, but know that we have been warned not to interfere in the lives of mortals too often.” Bilbo nodded. Irmo rose and in an instant, Bilbo was waking up to the frantic shaking of his parents and a crowd in his grandmother’s room.

The candles had blown out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter I'm not so sure about. Let me know what you think of it!
> 
> As always, if you recognize it, it doesn't belong to me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf talks with Bilbo for the first time, for the second time. And isn't that just completely confusing?
> 
> There are direct quotes in this chapter, so I'd like to say it again: If you recognize it, I don't own it! I only play around in Tolkien's world, I didn't create it. (If I did, the Durins wouldn't have died.)

Bilbo grew up again, but did not squander the time he had been given. The Fell Winter came and went with not a single Hobbit’s death. Bilbo slowly discovered the merits of Yavanna’s blessing and the gifts bestowed upon him by the Valar. By the time Gandalf showed up looking for a burglar, he was beyond ready for the journey.

He was living in a small smial near Bag End, his parents still occupying his childhood home. He had a pantry full of food and warm beds set up for visitors. His bag was packed, with extra handkerchiefs, of course. And he was precisely in place when Gandalf arrived. He was smoking his pipe and pretending that his stomach wasn’t tied up in knots.

Gandalf approached him. Bilbo silently smoked his pipe, observing that the sun was shining and the grass was green, just as it had been all those years ago.

“Good morning,” Gandalf said after a long while. Bilbo fought back a grin.

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it to be or not, or that you feel good this morning, or that it is a morning to be good on?” He recited the words that had started his journey all those years ago. Gandalf, for his part, looked taken aback.

“I suppose I only meant to strike up a conversation, although I do wish that your morning is good, Bilbo Baggins.” Bilbo smiled at his flustered friend.

“Well, then. Sit, Gandalf and have a smoke with me. I am having a fine morning indeed, and a conversation with an old friend can only serve to make it a better one.”

“You remember me then? I am surprised at you Bilbo.”

“How could I forget your fireworks? How could anyone? And of course my mother often speaks of her time with you. Perhaps after we are done talking you would like to visit her!”

Gandalf smiled, pleased. “My good fellow, I am afraid I have no time to smoke this morning, nor to catch up with old friends, as I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.”

“Why, Gandalf! Looking for an adventurer in the shire. What a ridiculous notion indeed. Well, you’re lucky to have stumbled upon me, then. I would gladly partake in this adventure of yours! And perhaps, now that it is arranged, you will join me for a smoke.” And with that, Bilbo took a long pull from his pipe and blew a gorgeous smoke ring.

Gandalf was so surprised that he could hardly speak. Here was a Hobbit, a Baggins no less, volunteering to go on an adventure! Well, he decided that he did need that smoke after all, and sat down beside Bilbo to have one.

Bilbo’s responding grin was poorly hidden, but he couldn’t care less, having so rarely seen his friend caught off guard.

 

After a conversation about the adventure containing many details that Bilbo already knew, the two ventured inside to talk with Bilbo’s parents. They were not surprised in the slightest that Bilbo would be going on an adventure, as he had been doing so since he was a fauntling. (In fact, he had been doing so since he was twelve years old and had decided that in order to spare himself some trouble, he would need to accomplish a few things before his journey.)

“When will you leave, darling?” Belladonna asked him, patting his cheek fondly. “And when will you be back?”

“This evening, and perhaps never!” he exclaimed happily. She laughed, accustomed to this answer from his many adventures in his youth. Bungo, however, always paled at this, wishing that Bilbo wouldn’t joke about such things. Bilbo noticed his father’s discomfort, though and patted him on the hand comfortingly.

“Don’t worry about it too much, pa. I’ll probably be back within the year. Two years at most, and I’ll write as often as I can send letters, alright?” This mollified Bungo enough that he could gather his wits about him and put the kettle on. It wouldn’t do to leave guests in want of tea, after all.

Gandalf, however, was lost in thought. In all of his answers to Bilbo’s queries, he hadn’t once mentioned that they would be leaving that evening. His moment of suspicion passed soon enough, and he walked Bilbo home and put the sign “Burglar” on his door, and then he went off to give the dwarrow directions to the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the last chapter of the exposition! On to the real adventure!
> 
> If you recognize it, I don't own it.
> 
> I love feedback! Tell me how I'm doing!


End file.
